Aboard A Great Liner

( Originally Published 1923 )

THE deep toned blast of the great steamer's whistle as she noiselessly slips away from the pier, the silent adieus between loved ones ex-pressed in waving handkerchiefs, the banked crowd of faces receding, still give me a thrill and stir the emotions. It is a perfect day for sailing,—an October day, the air cool and bracing, the sun bright and warming. I hope I may take my last long journey to that undiscovered land from which no traveler returns, in October, during the lovely autumn days, Indian summer days, when Nature covers earth with a warm mantle of fallen leaves, a patch-quilt of varied colors; when Nature chants a Te Deum sung to our eyes by a chorus of color vibrated by every autumn leaf and heard and understood by our souls, though not articulate. It is in these genial days of autumn that the wind gathers us a bed of leaves, and lying thereon we are tenderly mothered on Nature's bosom. These mysterious days have never been to me analogous to death, but rather a gentle going to sleep,—a short rest before the glorious awakening, when the south wind by her genial breath revives the earth, its new life again expressed as "Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil." Is not this the blessed heritage of October days? It is Hawthorne who speaking of autumn says, "Our Creator would never have made such lovely days and have given us the deep hearts to enjoy them, above and beyond all thought, unless we were meant to be immortal." One other hope and desire I wish here to express,—may that same dear one who in her farewell missive today, says—"It never was loving that emptied the heart,—Take God as your companion and come back safe and well, is the wish of us all," at that final parting, may her angelic words drop like falling leaves on my dimming consciousness and become my shibboleth to the Great Unknown.

As we passed the Steamer George Washington, which had sailed an hour earlier than our ship, the first officer remarked to me that we aboard the Steamer Majestic were happier than were the passengers aboard the George Washington. I did not comprehend his meaning at first; but, he later alluded to the "three mile limit" and I grasped its significance. I cannot agree with his conclusions. I used to enjoy a small glass of fruity sherry or a good table wine such as Barsac or Sparkling Moselle, 'but I do not believe that it is necessary to happiness. On the contrary, I believe that liquor has caused much more unhappiness and grief, sin and crime, than any other agency with which the Anglo-Saxon has had to deal. Those who have tasted the cup filled with its palatable but insidious poison may reluctantly give it up, and there are even those who if still able to procure it would continue to befuddle and destroy the greatest blessing God has bestowed upon mankind, namely his mentality and reason; but ask them if they would be responsible for passing it on to our children and their children, and the answer is the same from all. The fact is that any desire to continue liquor in America is based upon selfishness.

The greatest evil and danger, and one which may be far reaching even beyond our imagination, is the unthinking attitude of so many Americans today regarding their obligation towards the Eighteenth Amendment. We should not only obey the law and enjoy the privileges and blessings secured to us thereby, but it is further our duty to act as guardians and de-fenders of the law. It was Lincoln, I believe, who referred to an invisible influence that reaches each citizen and makes him a champion of all those laws which have to do with the welfare of our country and the well-being of our countrymen. Some seem to look upon the law as a joke and do not believe that the Government is serious in the enforcement of it. In my humble opinion, it is poor judgment, in-deed, to ridicule any amendment that has been made a part of our Constitution, a document which should be held sacred by every true American. Open violation of any law tends towards anarchy, which, if I understand it correctly, means contempt for all laws. It might be well to recall that it was Macaulay who prophesied the destruction of civilization in America by lawlessness engendered within her own institutions. It is clearly the solemn duty of every American citizen worthy of the name, to defend our holy institutions against such elements of lawlessness as the bootlegger and his ilk.

While attending the services this Sunday morning, I was singularly affected by what, I suppose, is a very common sight, namely the mingling together, on a table, of the Stars and Stripes with the Union Jack, both lying beneath the Holy Bible. There immediately flashed into my mind "In hoc signa vinces." Every day of my life I am more convinced that the future peace and welfare of mankind rests upon the preservation of the Christian religion and the carrying on together of these two nations in His name. Recent events in the near East have again demonstrated that England is still the backbone of Christian civilization; and our place is shoulder to shoulder by her side under banners that enfold principles that are our God-given heritage through our illustrons forefathers, principles which have as their foundation the Ten Commandments, and these are the corner-stone of the morality of the world. The Atlantic and the Pacific are yearly narrowing, as science and industry develop; and it is the duty of America also to assume world obligations. Whether we assume them or not, it is certain that we will be drawn into any maelstrom of world war that may arise, a situation which perhaps might be averted if our position were made known and stated in the Councils of the Nations. There still seem to be many who belong to the class that someone recently referred to as being willing to have England keep the Turk out of Europe even if it took every Englishman. The manner in which the American people promptly approved of Secretary Hughes' endorsement of England's stand in the recent Turkish problem, clearly indicates that true Americans respond to the same moral appeal as the English. This is quite natural; for the moral fibre that goes to make up the directing forces of America is of the same lineage—the Puritan Fathers.

I was entertained, but also seriously reminded of some important facts, when reading a few days ago a speech by Lloyd George,—The Bonnie Little Welshman—that mighty mental giant and the greatest man produced in England in recent years. He stated that England owed America a thousand million pounds, but that this was nothing compared to what America owed England. Were he writing the balance sheet, it would appear thus : Debit-One thousand million pounds ; Credit John Wesley, George Whitefield, to say nothing of Shakespeare, Milton, Roger Williams, and the Puritan Fathers. Lloyd George favours England paying her debt to America—let us not be remiss in discharging our obligations in kind to her.

Last evening as I was sitting in the lounge room, an interesting character sat down beside me and soon began to converse, I might say discourse. He didn't believe in the decision of the majority; for his experience had proved it was always best to take the contrary course. Assuming this premise, naturally he did not accept our form of Government as the best, nor were its founders, Washington, Hamilton, and Jefferson, such great men as Aaron Burr and Benedict Arnold. He had been taught by his father that the Republican party was made up largely of bankers and negroes (I called his attention to the fact that I was neither, but still a Republican). He was certain that the Mongolian race was a superior people to the Caucasian, and destined to rule the world. He considered the Christian religion a failure and women of the Christian lands less moral than those of Oriental and Pagan lands. He did, however, agree with George Harvey that women had no souls and further that their morality was inferior to man's. I interjected the remark, "If women haven't souls, pray tell me where they exist?" Lloyd George picturesquely remarked recently, "Surely women have souls and some even more than others," but then my interesting fellow passenger replied that "Lloyd George was a liar and a thief." To disagree on some subjects is interesting and invites discussion and mental exercise, but his opinions were so skeptical and cynical that they became a charming satire. It was Robert Ingersoll who said that to argue or reply to a man who has bidden good-bye to reason is like giving medicine to a dead man. At all events,—God still reigns; the sun still shines; and the State is safe.

This is certainly a splendid ship, exceedingly steady even in seas in which ships of one-half the tonnage of the Majestic would roll or pitch uncomfortably. I am reminded that I crossed on this ship's predecessor about twenty-one years ago. The Majestic of that day, then looked upon as a fine ship, could almost be carried on the forward deck of the ship now bearing the name. Without any apparent effort, five hundred and fifty knots are covered in twenty-three hours, approximately six hundred and forty miles, which means that this great hull, nearly a thousand feet long, one hundred feet wide, and thirty-six feet draft, is being shoved through wave-crested sea at twenty-eight miles per hour and she is capable of even greater speed. It is stated, however, that these great liners are not proving as profitable as ships of eighteen or twenty-five thousand tons. These palatial ships such as the Majestic, Mauretania, Aquatania (and I have now crossed on all) are sometimes amusingly referred to as "The Yiddish Express." There are surely many Hebrews aboard; but, speaking for myself, I find that I can get most out of life by appreciating the best in any and all classes that I come in contact with. All present a condition of life, a creed, or philosophy that, if we accept the best it has to offer, may be helpful and even broadening to our own narrow vision.

Cherbourg tomorrow : I am not sorry, for so far as I am concerned sea voyages are only a means to an end. The sea always looks best to me from ashore.

"Ye mariners, that plough your onward way,
Or in the haven rest, or sheltered bay,
May silent thanks at least to God be given
With a full heart; our thoughts are heard in heaven."

WORDSWORTH.